Effie the Rebel
by sexidebater
Summary: Nobody knows how Effie became involved in the rebellion, or if she actually was a rebel, or if she was just coerced after the war. This is her story told from her point of view after the war, right before she decides that she is done with it all.


***Author's Note* I came up with the idea for this story while researching for my Hunger Games A/U story that I plan on doing. I realized that I love doing one shots that describe a character who people don't know a lot about, and I realized that not a lot is said about Effie. In fact most fan fictions here on this site that are about the Hunger Games are about the different games, like the 57th game, or the 12th game, or something like that, not a lot of charcter profiles that I have seen.  
So here is Effie's story as to how she became involved in the rebellion, because not much is said about it. Please leave a review if you like it and I'll see if I can do some more.  
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When I was little, a young girl who lived in the capital, my favorite time of year was when the Hunger Games happened. Oh how I loved to watch the Hunger Games.

The frill of it all was stupendous and the pageantry of the event was magnificent. When I was little, I decided that I wanted to somehow be a part of the well-oiled machine that was put on every year by the glorious President Snow.

When I turned 18 and had finished my schooling, I applied to be an intern with the gamemakers, deciding that I would work my way up the chain until I could be an escort for one of the good districts.

My internship happened during the 62nd hunger games, which for those of you who don't remember, that was the year that Enobaria won. That there was a glorious bloody game!

As an intern, I was in charge of getting coffee and refreshments for the gamemakers. While this is usually a duty reserved for the Avoxes, the gamemakers have found that the Avoxes are willing to risk their lives to spit in their coffee so usually the gamemakers will have first year interns fetch their coffee for them.

That year there were so many fantastic parties and I was viewed as an icon among my friends from school since I was working with the games, even though I was just an intern.

All my friends were jealous of me, especially since I got into all the good parties and they didn't.

A few years later, I was moved up to a better position working as an events coordinator. My supervisor had discovered that I had an impeccable knack for perfecting events and getting things done on time in an orderly fashion.

That was the year that Finnick Odair won the games. He was such a handsome boy. It saddened me that he was only 14 and that none of us would be able to get our hands on him for the next four years when he turned of age.

For the next two years I worked as an events coordinator, I managed the parties that were hosted by the president during the victory tour. It was a fun job, but I still wanted more.

So before the 67th Hunger Games commenced, the poor woman who had been the escort for District 12 had finally passed away.

I jumped at the opportunity to become an escort. As soon as I heard the news, I quickly filled out an application for the job and primped up my resume and was waiting outside of Heavensbee's office the next morning. At the time Heavensbee was in charge of such matters like deciding who was an escort or not.

He took my resume and looked over my application.

Three days later, they called me and told me that I was to be the escort for the District 12 tributes.

I was beyond ecstatic. Even though it was only district 12, it was a huge mile marker in my career!

A few months later, I arrived in District 12 on a train. The place was nothing like it seemed on the television.

On TV, the district seemed at least fairly clean, but now, it seemed as if everything was covered in coal dust leaving the buildings looking grey. In fact, that was the only color there, grey.

If it weren't for my florescent pink wig, and wonderful purple suit that was created especially for me, I probably would have blended in with the scenery.

I huffed and grumbled to myself, infuriated that these heathens couldn't take care of their district properly.

I was taken to the justice building where a stage had been set up outside. Inside the justice building, I noticed that it seemed like they had quickly cleaned it before hand and that the walls were starting to become yellowed and gross.

Again, I huffed and grumbled.

I peered out the window to see all the citizens of district 12 as they started to arrive. All the children were lining up to check in and they got into their respective spots. As the time got closer, my stomach rumbled with anticipation.

Suddenly, there was a crash from behind me. I turned around to figure out what it was and saw a man sprawled across the floor.

I gasped and ran over to him as fast as my dress and heels would allow me to.

"Oh my!" I exclaimed, "Is he alright?"

A peacekeeper nudged him with his boot, "Eh, he'll be fine. He always gets drunk on the day that tributes are drawn. You must be the new escort."

I nodded, "Yes I am. Now who is he?"

The peacekeeper smiled at me, "Why this here is dear old Haymitch Abernathy, winner of the second Quarter Quell. He will regain conscience in a minute so you guys can have a proper introduction."

There was a groan from the man and he started to move. He got up and sat on his knees, rubbing his head and looking around.

"Hey Shamis!" he said to the peacekeeper, "How ya doin'?"

The peacekeeper gave him a half-smile, "Decent, Mr. Abernathy, I would like to introduce you to the new escort. I didn't catch her name, but I assume that you guys can take care of introductions. You will be working together for a long time."

The peacekeeper then turned and went back to his post by the door, keeping an eye on us as he waited for the right time to open the doors.

Haymitch stood up on his feet then. He looked rather tipsy, like he was going to fall over again at any second.

"So you're the new escort. What did you do to get sent here?" he asked, slurring his words as he dug out a flask and took a swig of it.

"I didn't do anything except ask to be given the job of an escort!" I replied curtly. I already was starting to not like Haymitch.

He laughed at that. It was halfhearted and sounded like it was out of pity, "Well then, you are crazy."

I glared at him.

The peacekeeper then interrupted us, "Hey you guys, it's time."

I nodded and pivoted on my heel, turning to face the door. The peacekeeper opened it for me and I walked out.

Thousands of faces stared up at me. I beamed at them and approached the microphone.

"Good morning and welcome to the 67th annual Hunger Games!" I chirped into the microphone. I expected for there to be huge amounts of claps and roars, but I was met with half-hearted enthusiasm.

I continued on, "I am Effie Trinket, the new escort for this district! As per tradition, we will be starting with the video that the capital sent us!"

I turned to face the big screen and the video that the capitol played every year reminding us why we had the Hunger Games started to play.

After the ten minute film ended, I turned back to the microphone.

"Now to call the names of our lucky tributes! Ladies first!" I exclaimed as I walked over the bowl that held the names of the girls.

I reached my hand far into the bowl while looking out at the crowd with a smile plastered on my face.

Plucking a piece of paper out of the bowl, I went back to the microphone to read it aloud.

"And the female District 12 tribute for the 67th Hunger Games is…" I unfolded the piece of paper and read it aloud, "Rachel Fledge!"

I looked to the girls side of the crowd and saw a young girl who look about 15 start screaming as she was pushed up to the front. The peacekeepers grabbed her and brought her up to the stage.

I smiled, "Now for the boys!" I chirped as I walked over to the boys bowl. It confused me why she was screaming, she should be happy to have such an honor.

Reaching into the bowl, again I dug deep and plucked out a piece of paper. I walked back to the microphone and read it aloud.

"And our male tribute for the 67th Hunger Games is…. Maxwell Grimes!"

A tall boy with black hair and and upper body build came out of the crowd and up to the stage. He looked like he was 17 or 18, so that meant that this would have been his last year.

"Now shake hands!" I chirped at Maxwell and Rachel.

They looked at each other and shook hands. Rachel looked like she was about to collapse, Maxwell looked like he was void of emotion.

Soon we were on the train heading to the capitol. Rachel couldn't stop crying the entire way.

Haymitch kept on drinking and glaring at everyone. Maxwell picked at his food and twiddled his thumbs.

I never would have guessed that this would have been so hard.

As it turned out, Haymitch is an absolutely useless mentor. Just completely horrid. He was almost always drunk, and he was just pathetic.

That was the year that the only weapons available were spiked maces.

Rachel and Maxwell were sent in and Rachel died within the bloodbath. Maxwell made it for about two more days, but then he ultimately died as well.

I went home that night, feeling less peppy than I had before.

The next year, things went the same as usual. I stayed peppy and reminded myself that these children were actually excited to be a part of such a momentous event!

I don't remember the names of my tributes from the 68th game or the 69th game, or even the 70th. I do remember who won the 70th hunger games though. It was that Annie girl who Finnick loved.

As the years went by, I realized that I truly hated the Hunger Games. I hated them because every year my tributes would die. Sometimes I had started to connect with my tributes and get to know them better but then they would die in the arena.

They always died.

But every year I would walk up to those bowls with a smile on my face and call out the names of the tributes.

And every year, I was met with a halfhearted response.

Every year Haymitch drank a little bit more and every year, I thought about joining him.

Every year, as I watched my tributes die, whether I like them or not, I realized that they were still children who had families, friends, and loved ones back in District 12 and they would never see those people again.

I hated the capital a little more each year and I always hoped that I would get transferred to another district that could be more successful because the rate of children dying was astronomical. These children didn't even have a chance in hell of winning.

Yet during the 74th hunger games, everything changed.

The name I pulled was Primrose Everdeen. She was such a small thing as she made her way to the stage. I struggled to keep my smile up because the poor girl couldn't have been more than 12 years old.

Then the unthinkable happened. An older girl burst out of the crowd and ran to the girl and screamed that she volunteered as tribute.

There was an audible gasp from the citizens of 12 and the girl named Primrose was carried off screaming by a tall boy who looked similar to them, but I could tell that they weren't related.

The older girl made her way to the stage.

She said her name was Katniss.

When I asked for applause, I was met with silence, and then all the people of district 12 raised their hand with 3 fingers pointing in the air, and gave a salute to Katniss.

I was nearly stunned speechless, but I kept my cool and went over to the boys to call a name.

"Peeta Mellark." I called, plastering the smile on my face.

A stocky, handsome boy came out of the crowd.

Again, we were met with silence when I asked for applause.

When we got on the train, I tried to be abrasive because I knew that I would like these tributes more than the other ones, but these kids had spunk and I started to feel for them quicker than the others.

It was when their stylists set them on fire that I knew that these two were going to be different.

When Katniss shot the arrow at the gamemakers, I silently jumped for joy because she had stood up for them.

And when Peeta admitted that he had loved Katniss since he was 5, I fell in love with the idea of them as a couple, even though I knew that Katniss wouldn't return his feelings, I still prayed that they would make it out together and that she would one day love him.

When they were in the arena, I watched every moment I could when I wasn't helping to schmooze sponsors for them.

After they had announced that if the last two tributes were from the same district, both of them would become victors, my heart jumped for joy and I started to pray harder and went after sponsors harder.

I sold their love story, coming up with some cockaminee story of how if you press coal hard enough, it becomes a pearl, even though that story was completely poppycot.

The people of the Capital fell for it and loved it.

And so they got sponsors.

When Peeta was lying in the cave with Katniss, practically dying because of blood poisoning, I couldn't take it anymore.

I truthfully didn't know if Peeta was going to survive. I could only imagine what would happen to Katniss if he didn't.

I decided that I desperately needed a drink right then to help numb the pain.

I looked for Haymitch and found him at the bar.

I sat next to him.

"I need a drink Haymitch, what do you suggest" I said to him a defeated voice.

He looked at me with shock.

"Who the hell are you and what have you done to the Effie Trinket that i know and loathe?"

I chuckled, "Well that Effie has gone bat shit crazy and needs a drink to settle her nerves. Now suggest me something otherwise I'll just have what you're having, but I believe that is probably too strong for me isn't it?"

Haymitch gruffed at me, but still he ordered me a gin and tonic.

I downed it quickly then turned to him.

"Haymitch, I need a few shots."

Again he gruffed and I was given a few shots of vodka. It burned on the way day, but I felt looser already.

I stayed next to Haymitch all night as we waited to see what would happen. I nursed a few more drinks, no longer needing to down them in one gulp, but just needing them for something that my hands could do.

When the feast was finally called, Haymitch left for a few minutes then came back. He told me that he had taken care of it and that Peeta would hopefully get his medicine.

When Katniss killed Cato and her and Peeta were left there waiting for their fate, only to be told that only one could make it, my heart stopped beating for a full 10 seconds until I saw the idea form in Katniss's head.

They were both released after the berries incident.

I was relieved, but I wasn't an idiot.

I knew that they would have to pay for this somehow.

On the victory tour, it didn't take me too long to figure out what was going on.

When the old man was shot in District 11, I knew that there was something bigger than me going on.

I cornered Haymitch and made him tell me what was going on.

He told me about the rebellion and told me that I needed to keep my mouth shut otherwise he would kill me himself.

So I complied, and started to find little ways to help the rebellion.

They read the quarter quell card.

I was at a party celebrating the reading of the card.

When they read it, I realized that Katniss would have to go back in and before even asking, I knew that Peeta and Haymitch would be fighting over who would go in with her.

I felt like fleeing, screaming, and crying.

I also felt like ripping Snow's face off his body and shoving it up his ass.

But I kept my cool and declared it to be splendid.

I knew that this was Snow's way to punish Katniss for her misdeeds and a way to crush the rebellion hopefully.

When the reaping day came, I already knew that Katniss was going to be called, but I still did the formalities.

My heart broke when I called Haymitch's name.

Peeta volunteered.

A few minutes later when no one was looking, I pulled out the other slip of paper, having my doubts.

They were correct.

It too said Haymitch Abernathy.

Peeta would have gone into the games no matter what. There was no chance that Haymitch would have ever made it in.

The capital wanted both Peeta and Katniss dead and they made sure that they would both be in the games.

Before they went in, I made sure that they knew that they deserved so much better than what they were getting.

I knew Peeta had lied when he said that Katniss was pregnant. It was a ploy.

But it worked. Because the capital loved them both so much, they realized that they were still children and this was fucked up.

I knew they wouldn't feel the same when the games started, but them feeling it then, that was hope right then and there.

When Peeta died after he hit the force field, I started crying.

I was at a party, and I didn't give a damn if anyone was looking at me.

I had just lost my tribute.

Katniss, though blind to her own emotions, lost her lover. The country had lost their hope.

There is no emotion to describe how I felt when Peeta was resuscitated by Finnick.

Haymitch bought me a drink to help settle my nerves.

It was there in the din of the boisterous crowds that Haymitch whispered to me what would probably be happening within the next few days and warned me that I would probably be arrested.

I nodded at what he said that the rebellion was going to try to rescue the tributes.

And I decided that before I got arrested, I was going to drink a lot and throw a fabulous pity party for myself and everybody, including Snow, was going to be invited.

I got Haymitch smashed that wondrous day and I stayed Haymitch smashed right until 6 hours before the peacekeepers came and hauled me off to an underground facility where I was tortured to give information that I didn't have.

Haymitch had kept me fairly in the dark about the rebellion, giving me only the bare minimum.

But I kept them guessing so that I could keep myself alive.

And it worked.

I was proud that Katniss killed Coin instead of Snow.

I saw what Coin had become and she would have been no better than Snow was.

But I never said anything because I had had enough torture for one human.

After the rebellion, I worked for the Hunger Games only one more time.

And that was to help prepare Snow's granddaughter,

The little tike was 14 going on 15.

Surprisingly, she won.

Even though the proposal was supposed to have died with Coin when Katniss shot her, Johanna made sure that it happened. She wanted one last Hunger Games to show her displeasure.

So thus it happened.

After winning, Rosie, Snow's granddaughter, wound up killing herself a few years later.

She was only 17 when she pulled the trigger to the handgun that was pressed against the side of her head.

It went straight through one side, and came out the other, killing her instantly.

Her suicide note said that it was better this way, that this way, the dreams would no longer haunt her and she would no longer have to answer for the crimes that her grandfather had committed.

After her death, I left the capital, and moved elsewhere, never really staying in one place.

I decided that I would do anything that didn't involve the Hunger Games.

So I became a party planner, specializing in children's birthday parties around Panem. My only rule was that I wasn't going to do a hunger games themed party.

I didn't give a shit if they paid me out the ass.

I'd rather be starving on the streets and have Peeta throw burned bread at me than participate in a Hunger Games themed party.

I threw parties for the children of the remaining victors, so Annie's little boy got many free parties that were extravagant and Katniss and Peeta also utilized my talents for their children.

But I still would wake up, screaming and crying about all the tributes that I had lost in the games, the tributes who had grown on me and that I had loved.

When I reached the ripe old age of 70, I couldn't take it anymore.

I figured that I had lived a nice long life and what now so I have decided to end it.

As of now, I am on the coast, District 4 to be exact.

In a matter of moments, I will be walking to the cliff that is beyond my house, and I will jump off it, breathing in as much water as I can when I hit the bottom.

I will be dead and the dreams will stop haunting me.

I warn you reader, don't make our mistakes. Don't punish those who don't need to be punish.

Actually, better yet, don't be a fucktard dick asshole motherfucker who becomes a dictator of the impoverished.

Because if you do, then I'm going to come back from my watery grave and haunt your motherfucking lame ass in my pink wig glory and drive you insane until you too jump off a fucking cliff!

You have been warned. Now take care of the poor and be a decent human being who doesn't find joy in the suffering of others.


End file.
